


Reflections in Black Velvet Paintings

by Missy



Category: Reno: 911!
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Humor, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James remembers his relationship with Clementine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections in Black Velvet Paintings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XII, prompt: Reno 911!, Clementine Johnson/James Garcia, [any]. Thank you to Amber for beta!

Watching Clementine Johnson fuck was like staring at a black velvet painting of Kenny Rodgers; it just didn’t get more beautiful.

Why he liked it so much James couldn’t quite figure out. He’d been chasing her forever; having her was something entirely different. They were all a little screwed up, but Clementine….she could be crazier than a shithouse rat. She managed to hide it better than the rest of them, but when they were alone together her past was right there on the surface.

He forgot all about the mess with her mama when they got into the bedroom and she slid off that dress shirt. What the hell was it about her? It wasn’t just her tits – even though those were great – it was the look she’d get on her face while she was sucking his cock, that intense, highly-focused expression. That’s what made a Clementine Johnson suckjob so great – she knew how to give head like a Hoover Vacuum without puking.

“I know a guy who could wax you for six bucks,” she said, coming up for air.

It was great head, the kind of head he had to return before getting a little. She would quiver in his arms like a newborn foal, whining and moaning at his touch. And if he got frustrated and had a problem finding her clit, she’d hold open her labia and point. Not that he needed that help all the time, or ever…

“It’s in the same place it’s always been,” she grunted. But he was a damn hard worker, so he concentrated everything he had on that damn clit, the flat of his tongue, the tip of it, the hot suction of his lips, until she whined and collapsed against the bed.

Clemmy wasn’t a position girl, but she still had a favorite. She liked to be on top, her forearms plastering her pale tits together and her hands braced on his belly as she rode him cowgirl-style at the center of the bed. She could screw for hours that way, come a hundred times, ride him soft and screw him up hard again.

“No one wants me like you,” she said dreamily, lying her head down in his lap.

That’s what he remembers two years later, in the seconds before the impact that took them both.


End file.
